


Stay With Me

by crystaltongues



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Feels, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystaltongues/pseuds/crystaltongues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My version of "we’re soulmates and we’ve been reincarnated for dozens of lives but I remember nothing and you remember every single one of our lives and every time you have to convince me"<br/>Han is the one who remembers, Luke is the one who forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Han had been reborn so many times that he remembered the first war of the Sith and the Jedi. It never got easier, though, being the only one who remembered it all. Each new life he felt heavier, walked slower, laughed less. Every moment with his soul mate was a treasure, but it bearing the burden of memories alone was too much for one man. Once he was set in the ways of his new life, it was a nightmare to explain all their previous lives.

 

He was anxious to find him early because that always made it easier to convince him of their shared past. Han had no idea what he would look like or what his name was, but Han knew he would recognize his soul. It was an old soul, young in spirit, and true love at heart.

 

Until they could be together again, Han would have to find something to fill his time. Flashy posters for the Imperial Academy decorated every alleyway-gaining some skills didn't seem like a bad idea. Besides, being in the middle of the action was a good way to attract his lover's attention. Maybe he was there, too. And maybe that line of reasoning was easier to confront than the fact that he was tired. Without this, he wouldn't have the motivation to work, or the energy to make a life for himself. This would force him up every day, get him fed, get him a paycheck. It could even land him some temporary friends.

 

* * *

 

Six months into training and Han was beyond antsy. The mind games and ever changing rules had been amusing at first, a good way to have a few laughs, but now they were a source of severe agitation and restriction. The suffocating hierarchy tested his self control daily. The lack of individuality, the uncomfortable uniforms, the childish nature of everyone he came into contact with...it was madness. He had done a variety of things in his lives, but he was always independent. He valued privacy.

 

This was the opposite of private and independent.

 

Making friends was more trouble than it was worth here. None of them had enough brains to see past the games or propaganda, It was truly pathetic. And the insider look at the cruelty of the Empire was no picnic, either.

 

Countless write ups didn't seem to matter in light of his good aim and ability to regurgitate lies. They even overlooked his possession of alcohol and theft of drugs.

 

It wasn't like he wanted to party or anything. He just needed to be able to get to sleep without a reminder of the empty space in between his fingers.

 

* * *

 

Graduation came and went. Being at the top of his class wasn't enough for Han. It didn't fill the hole inside of him. He was snippy, impatient, and never passed up at opportunity to yell at those below him. Sometimes the only way to deal with pain was to pawn it off onto someone else.

 

* * *

 

The escape from Imperial life was kind of rough, but the wookie he saved made it worth while.

The air had caved in around him, trapped him under the burden of loneliness. The deep chasm inside of him folded in on itself to create a new monster-one who would kill to save a wookie he didn't even know. One who would steal imperial ships, gun down people who were supposed to be his comrades.

 

These actions gave him some sense of purpose, a direction that might actually matter. Being a pawn in an anti-alien system wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

 

The long nights alone were a little shorter with a friend by his side.

 

* * *

 

Gambling and drinking grew in place where love had grown previously, where flowers had been hope and desire was the summer sun. A cold new moon took it's place, with storm clouds blocking out the last bit of light. He was damn near old, too old for fool's dreams of love. The weight of the years seemed to get heavier each time he was reborn. He pushed back another drink, his leg twitched nervously under the bar table. Han didn't want to admit what he already feared. He was no longer young. It would be a miracle if he found his lover.

 

It seemed that each day he lived alone, the more closed off he got. He chewed on the last moments again. Self medicating had quickly led to a tolerance, and now nothing was strong enough to keep those bloody memories away.

 

The self blame was a straight jacket. They died too young-or at least he assumed they both died. Han glared at the ice cubes that circled the glass as he spun it. It aggravated him. Everything did at this point. Thirty odd years alone was too much for a cynic, hell, it was too much for any man.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Han. You've seemed off lately.” Lando leaned on the bar

 

“Yeah, guess so.” Han didn't look up from his drink.

 

“Need to talk about it?”

 

“What's there to talk about? I was born alone and I'm going to die alone. Convenient.”

 

“What are you talking about? Cmon, you've got a lot going for you! A top smuggler, handsome as-”

 

Han's glare would have killed a gundark. “It doesn't matter. I've given up looking for what I want. Just accept it, like I have. Easier this way.”

 

“That's just depressing.”

 

Han shrugged and wandered away from the bar, eventually making his way back to the hotel room. It didn't matter what he did. His tears were spent. The walls bled and screamed the names his lover had taken in the other lives. The floor fell out from under him. The bed only made his solitary life more jarring. It was obvious by now that he didn't deserve to find his love. He had failed.

 

* * *

 

Winning the Millennium Falcon was the best thing that had happened in a long time. The ship consumed him. Every extra credit, every spare hour, every waking second of this nightmarish life were spent on her. She was beat up to hell, but fixing her grounded Han.

 

He could repair this, upgrade that, modify these. It was mindless and time consuming.

 

Even if he wasn't fixable, the ship was.

 

And that's all that really mattered.

 

* * *

 

Another day, another poison. Bleak apathy pumped through his veins. The shipment of spice was gone. The bounty on his head would be damn near impossible to pay back. A blaster's force against his skull was starting to sound like a fine idea. How did it end up like this? Alone. Destitute. He held his own hand, dirty nails dug into even dirtier skin.

 

Chewbacca interrupted the self loathing to inform him about a job offer. Some kind of trip to Alderaan. Promising. Probably a better alternative to the date he planned with his blaster.

 

He forced himself up from the bar and followed his friend to meet their clients. 


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation flew by like the streaks of stars in hyperspace. He was stuck on overdrive. Minute details drew his attention, the eyes clear as an icy winter morning, the defiant way he said “I'm not such a bad pilot myself.”, the youthful innocence in his grin, the way he absorbed every word that was said. Han replayed these things over and over in his mind,that voice a soundtrack to the movie of a rebellious farm boy. Hell, he could even forgive the Falcon insult.

But still, the tainted depression that had taken root inside of Han wouldn't be so easy to eradicate. He was snippy and short of patience, lacking in morality. So long on his own, so long without a man to keep him in the light. It wasn't a matter of his willingness to wait, but what the wait did to him.

All of these things nagged at his thoughts, demanded a shred of his attention while he tried to get them safely into hypersace, and again as he tried to interact with Luke. 

Though both of them had lived long enough to know the Force was real, Han antagonized the kid anyway.

Kid.

That's right. He was probably 10, 15 years Luke's senior.

Kid.

Luke lived out their last life alone for at least a decade.

His comments became more annoyed, his breath hotter. And it only hurt Luke. Shit, he didn't know what was going on. He never did.

Some kind of defect, that one remembered and the other didn't. But which one was the defective one? He turned away from Luke to pretend to play with a control panel. Han sighed deeply

Han realized he was probably the defective one. He always was. Dying and leaving Luke alone. How could he do that?

A flashing alerted him of their arrival, but something was wrong.

“What do you mean? Where is it?”

“I don't know, kid. It's just gone.”

“Gone? How could it be gone?”

It was gone. Just like all his memories. Just like everything Han loved. 

* * *

The trooper armor hugged him in all the wrong places, but it didn't seem to deter Luke any. He came dangerously close to Han a few times, despite the fact that they were on some kind of secret Imperial base and Chewie was in the room with them.

The time they spent together without mutual knowledge of the situation only filled Han with more despair. His worries cornered him, pacing, fiddling.

“I'd prefer a fair fight to all this sneaking around.” He snapped. Nothing was worse than this. Nothing was so bad as the man you longed for standing before you, a passionate fire in his veins, and pushing him away. 

Nothing so bad as yourself, really.

* * *

Han couldn't help but follow Luke's plans into suicidal danger. His ideas weren't that bad, really-they all survived.

Everyone except Ben. And that shock almost got Luke killed. 

Not now. Not when I just got him back. You can't take him now.

It was all he could do to fly them out of the hanger.

* * *

He found a jealous rage brewing in his muscled as he watched Leia comfort Luke. Not that it mattered-Han had no idea what he would even say. It was the principle of the thing, he supposed. Luke was his soul mate. His man to take care of, not some princess. He pushed the feelings aside. He didn't have experience with this. He failed him before. Why try now?

* * *

“Still, you think a princess and a guy like me...?”

“No!”

Han laughed. That was all he needed to hear.

He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. They found each other. He could wait a while longer to stroke his hair, to kiss his cheek, to love him. For now, the flirting and brilliant smiles would have to suffice. He let Luke take over his conscious thought, let it flow over him, a cascade of wanting and needing. 

* * *

The mission was a death sentence, and Han wouldn't be able to live to see their victory if he didn't pay off his debt. Run, pay it off, come back and sweep Luke off his feet. Fool proof plan, but his the execution was sloppy.

“So, you got your reward and you're just leaving, then?” Barely together and here he was, already torn to pieces over Han's departure.

“That's right, yeah! I got some old debts I've got to pay off with this stuff. Even if I didn't, you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do you? Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. I could use you.” He could only hope that Luke caught his double meaning, that he understood he would come back for him. That he didn't want to leave him.

“Come on! Why don't you take a look around? You know what's about to happen, what they're up against. They could use a good pilot like you. You're turning your back on them.” Great, now Luke was angry. Barely together and already in their first real fight.

He tossed around counterpoints, but none of them seemed sufficient. “What good's a reward if you ain't around to use it? Besides, attacking that battle station ain't my idea of courage. It's more like suicide.” 

“All right. Well, take care of yourself, Han. I guess that's what you're best at, isn't it?” He stalked off, and Han was left with remorse. 

“Hey! May the Force be with you.” Han meant to say more, but it got stuck inside him. He wanted to scream after Luke “I love you!”. But in the end, the things he meant to say didn't matter. So he he left.

* * *

Han didn't get far before he sensed the danger Luke was in, could smell death on the horizon. The turned the Falcon around, with Chewie's laughs of “I told you so.” floating around the cockpit.

The knots in his stomach were enough to kill a man. Tie fighters surrounded Luke. Han reached out instinctively, shooting them down one by one.

“You're all clear, kid. Let's blow this thing and go home.” Home to me.

Han ran without thought, barreling through all the people in the hanger. His one track mind was focused on touching Luke, making sure he really made it. Nothing was ever so sweet as the sight of him exiting the fighter. Their shared euphoria bubbled over, and Han thought he felt a peck on the cheek in the midst of all the excitement. He was sure that he imagined it until he looked at the elation in Luke's eyes.

* * *

Luke's blush and stuttered words were too much for Han.

“Just ask, I won't judge you, kid.” 

“Well, we have that ceremony, but I don't really have anything to wear for it. Just the clothes I came in. I was wondering if you-?”

 

“I might have something, sure. Follow me.”

Han realized this might be a good time to try to talk to Luke, but there was so much to explain. His approach changed every time, but none of the tactics stood out. 

It multiplied exponentially for Han, with the details of every life piling up everywhere. They sat in the corners, covered the floor, hid in the closets, under the bunks. Old jokes they had shared, kisses they enjoyed, just...everything. It was hard to remember his name sometimes, and where or when they were. 

Han's gaze strayed down Luke's chest as he tried on another shirt.

“Han?” Luke's curiosity was near insatiable.

“Yeah?” Hna shook his head.

“Where do you go?”

“What?” His mouth hung open a little.

“I mean, you keep thinking about something, staring off into space. What is it?”

Han sat down, and patted the seat to ask Luke to sit, too.

“Kid, this is gonna sound crazy.”

“Well, that's alright. I mean, I've seen my share of crazy lately. You know, it's weird, but it almost feels like I've known you for a long time.”

“Luke, you're right. Uh, sort of.” 

“Nah, if we had met before, I would have remembered.” 

“We're soulmates, you know. We've done this dozens of times already. Me and you.” He held his breath. The blunt approach seemed better than nothing.

But the wait was soon over as Luke jumped up. “What are you saying? Like some kind of...rebirth? That's crazy!”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.” He kept his voice steady.

“What? But we aren't even the same age! Why didn't we meet sooner?”

Han didn't answer, and each second of silence was a brick in the wall between their hearts.

The echoes of his angry footsteps followed him through the halls. The ghost of all the other versions of Luke he knew followed him, too. It was something he would never outrun. 

The brandy, warm and tingly, was his attempt to quiet the pain. 

“You can't say something like that and then just leave!” Luke stood in the door way.

Han shook the bottle in little circles, staring through the bottle while he waited for a reply to come to him. 

“What's the point if you won't believe me? Just forget it. Let's just go back to how we were before.”

“Fine. Great.”

Han didn't hear Luke leave, but he was acutely aware of the cold feeling that took his place. He threw back another drink, the empty glass connected with the table like a shot. Blunt wasn't a good strategy. Perhaps silence would serve him better.

* * * 

The next day they feigned ignorance. Smiles were all around as they received their medals. 

Han smirked. Luke looked better in his clothes than he did. 

But underneath the facade, a forest grew. Thorns and monsters pierced his heart, but beneath the underbrush, flowers poked through. 

It was a delicate balance, one Han would try harder not to upset.

* * * 

Each day on the new base was the same. Patrol, rest, patrol rest. Spare minutes spent fixing the Falcon or drinking. Nights spent wishing he were never born. Just the same old, same old. 

 

Luke hadn't listened or understood. Replaying it over and over didn't change how it went, but he grasped at any straw of hope. Maybe a new detail would emerge, a way to make him get it. But it always ended the same way. He had Luke, so why wasn't that enough? They spent every day together, so why did he still want to eat a blaster? 

It ran Han in circles, a cycle that had no end. He was his own demon.

* * *

Han didn't sense that Luke was in danger until it was too late. Leia always got into a fight at the wrong damn time. 

The kid had stayed out too late, and now these rebels refused to send a team out. None of them had any real conviction for this cause of theirs, wouldn't even try to save the last Jedi.

The surge of emotions kept him alive in the snow. His feelings led him to Luke. 

Live. Cmon, you can do this. We've survived worse. 

Live.

“Cant you hear me? I'm sorry!” He bowed his head. “I'm sorry.”

Something surged between them, a flash through their minds. It was a dark tunnel, and Han reached through it. On the other side was a pure light and innocence. Luke. 

It reminded Han of a life they had in the early days of the republic, a cherished memory. 

But he didn't just recall the memory, it seemed to flow between them. 

* * *

“That's two you owe me, junior.” If Han had known that this was the last time they would see each other relaxed and playful, Han would have said something else. He would have told him a million other things. 

But Luke took off. And he didn't even say where he was going. 

Their last words were awkward, with the truth left unsaid. Did he even remember what happened? Did Han just imagine it all? 

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

And that was it. He was gone. Han was left to deal with it all on his own. Maybe it was better this way. The kid didn't need a depressing old man around. 

But dammit it all if he didn't need Luke.


	3. Chapter 3

Luke had been weary of his power, of the Force, of death, of love. 

Han’s mind had touched his own, a whirlwind of memories mixed with his reality, and he could no longer ignore any of it.

His legacy, his destiny, his visions.

Dagobah would bring him answers to all the questions he never should have asked.

Anticipation filled his belly as he flew down into the atmosphere. 

“No, Artoo, I’m sure Han will be okay without me for a few days.” He answered his droid. 

A flurry of green and grey filled his vision as he crashed his fighter into a lake that was nothing short of disgusting.

What a great start to finding answers. Perhaps Artoo was right. He never should have come here.

* * *

What he had thought would be days stretched into weeks. He kept no contact with anyone outside of Yoda and Artoo. There was no time for it, and he had no idea what to tell them.

An ancient green Jedi was training him in the Force? That Han Solo was his long lost soulmate? 

No, none of that would do. In truth, Luke felt small and weak next to the power of the Force. He felt confused, conflicted, unsure. There was much he didn’t know, couldn’t know, would never know.

He pressed on, yearning for answers.

* * *

Though Yoda had told him he would not need his weapon, he brought the saber anyway. The cave was dark and slimy, with roots reaching out like sinister hands to brush against him. The Dark Side swirled around him, danced with his spirit. It was a coldness that he had never known before. It tainted everything, killed all that it touched. 

His sword lit up the blackness to reveal Darth Vader. 

But of course it wasn’t-it couldn’t be. How? And why?

Luke swallowed hard, his resolve coming hard and fast. He would strike the Sith down now, end it all. But the power in the cave that called to him was not of the light, not the pureness he was accustomed to. 

With a swift motion, he removed Vader’s head from his body. 

But inside the helmet he found not Vader, but his own face.

In his heart, he knew the answer. But in his mind he rejected it. The same rejection he gave to all hard answers.

He ran. 

Running was easy, natural.

He ran to be with the Force, to rejoin the Light side.

He ran to escape himself. 

* * *

“No! Concentrate you must, in the present you must be.” 

Luke had dropped all the rocks he was levitating. It had come to him again, out of nowhere. The feeling of Han through the Force, the sensation of shared memories. 

Whenever he reached out to the Force, broke through all of the noise around him, it came to him. It was like a beacon, beckoning to him. 

He was convinced that Jedi touched the Force in their sleep, because it visited him then, too. He often awoke in a cold sweat with his breath coming to him in sharp gasps. 

It was so difficult to find the truth in all the darkness of the world. 

“I’m sorry, Master Yoda. It’s just that...”

“A strong connection you have with someone, hm?”

Luke turned away. A strong connection. 

“Master, I’ve heard stories about...soulmates. Are they true? Do you know?” Luke swept the hair away from his face, but did not meet Yoda’s hard stare. 

The question had danced around them, unanswerable, undeniable. It rose to the surface several times a day, but Luke had trouble finding the strength to ask it. It seemed silly, like a child asking if love was real or how the sun worked.

“Difficult to answer that question is, hm? Trust in the Force, you must. There you will find the answers you seek.”

And so it was. And so it went on. 

* * *

A pang through his heart, a hurt through his head, a disturbance in the Force.

It didn’t matter that his training wasn’t complete, that Yoda would be angry, that Ben was upset with him.

Han was in the clutches of Darth Vader. He was in more pain that Luke could ever imagine having to bear. 

Nothing would stand in his way. 

“I’ve got to save them!”

* * *

The cold that had greeted him in the cave was there, and it was alive. But still somewhere underneath the darkness he could feel the light.

It was slight, but it was enough.

The search wore on and faded into a confrontation, but it was too late. He failed to save Han.

Their lightsabers met in flashes of light, a fire that Luke had never faced before.

A challenge fit for kings.

The truth revealed, a choice made in a rash mind, a limb lost.

He fell forever, made his way to a place of safety. Or, safety from a certain point of view.

The Force came to his aid, and with it, came Leia.

She relayed to him Han’s fate.

The reality fell around him like a meteor shower. As the debris cleared and Luke felt the light again, it became clear what his destiny was.

He would find out the truth of Han Solo, then save him.

He would save his father, then find out the truth of him.

With the weight of the world on his shoulders, he felt calm. He called upon the Force as he had been instructed to do so, and there he found that the pain and passage of time was not so bad.

* * *

He continued his training and research, but this time he did not feel so heavy or afraid. He found meditation to be the center of his life, his true solace. 

In time, the two Jedi Masters answered what they could. 

A Force bond, they called it. Two people, one mind. The channel could be developed over time, it could be broken, mended. Anything could be shared between them. Pain, joy, sorrow...

Memories.

The hope that Han had told the truth, that his feelings were not in vain, it made him feel weightless. 

While Han was frozen, Luke only grew stronger. He learned all he could, and soon they would both be free.

Free of the Empire, free of the past, free of the war.

Maybe they could even be happy. 

* * *

Luke woke up and contacted Leia. 

“It’s time.” He told her.

He could feel her relief. They were finally ready to save Han and destroy the rest of the evil left in the world.


End file.
